“Yes, sir, he cut himself in shaving yesterday morning.”
“Did you ever know him to cut himself in shaving before?”
“Not for a very long time, sir.”
“Suggestive!” said Holmes. “It may, of course, be a mere coincidence, or it may point to some nervousness which would indicate that he had reason to apprehend danger. Had you noticed anything unusual in his conduct, yesterday, Ames?”
“It struck me that he was a little restless and excited, sir.”
“Ha! The attack may not have been entirely unexpected. We do seem to make a little progress, do we not? Perhaps you would rather do the questioning, Mr. Mac?”
“No, Mr. Holmes, it’s in better hands than mine.”
“Well, then, we will pass to this card— V. V. 341. It is rough cardboard. Have you any of the sort in the house?”
“I don’t think so.”
Holmes walked across to the desk and dabbed a little ink from each bottle on to the blotting paper. “It was not printed in this room,” he said; “this is black ink and the other purplish. It was done by a thick pen, and these are fine. No, it was done elsewhere, I should say. Can you make anything of the inscription, Ames?”
“No, sir, nothing.”
“What do you think, Mr. Mac?”
“It gives me the impression of a secret society of some sort; the same with his badge upon the forearm.”